The first lick was an experiment.
Kael's rough, textured tongue lapped at her heat tentatively, like a tiger investigating a strange, exotic fruit he had found on the jungle floor. He was tasting the sweetness, analyzing the scent, his nose twitching against her slick folds.
Then, he decided he liked the fruit.
And he decided to devour it whole.
"Kael!" Ren shrieked, her back arching violently off the furs as the tentative tasting turned into a voracious feast.
He buried his face between her thighs, his hands gripping her hips with bruising force to hold her steady. There was no technique here. There was no rhythm or finesse. Unlike Syris, who treated her body like a complex instrument he was mastering with skilled, serpentine flicks, Kael was pure, unadulterated instinct.
